Page 100 of Frosted Fakes

Julia laughed. It came out slightly hysterical, but she couldn't help it. All this time, she'd been so convinced that being honest would ruin her life that she'd tied herself in knots trying to avoid it. And maybe, just maybe, she'd been wrong about what the consequences of honesty actually looked like.

Tom appeared at her elbow. "You alright?"

"I think so?" Julia wiped at her eyes. "That was… not what I expected."

"People surprise you sometimes." He shrugged. "Most of them don't actually care about the stuff you think they care about. They just want to be seen. Remembered." He paused. "You're good at that part, Julia."

She looked around the shop, at Mrs. Monmouth contentedly sipping tea, at the young couple sharing a pastry, at the steady stream of customers who had come to support rather than condemn.

Maybe that was worth something after all.

✽✽✽

"You need to see this."

Shay shoved her phone in Elliott's face before Elliott had even managed to open both eyes properly. The screen was blindingly bright, and Elliott squinted at it with the enthusiasm of someone being asked to identify a body.

"What am I looking at?"

"Candice Green having a complete meltdown. She's exposed everything. The baking, the fake relationship, all of it. Posted it everywhere."

Elliott sat up so fast she nearly head-butted Shay's phone. "She what?"

"Look, there's video of her in the shop, and honestly, it's kind of embarrassing for her more than anyone… the community is roasting her in the comments… but still…"

Elliott was already out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Shay called after her.

"The bakery."

"What? Why? Elliott, you walked out. You moved out. You can't just—"

But Elliott was already pulling on her jacket, jamming her feet into trainers, her body moving before her brain had fully caught up. Julia was facing this alone. Julia was dealing with the fallout of their shared deception while Elliott hid at Shay's place feeling sorry for herself.

That wasn't right. They'd done this together. They'd face it together.

Twenty minutes later, she pushed open the bakery door.

The shop was busier than she'd expected. Julia was behind the counter, looking shell-shocked but somehow still standing. Her eyes went wide when she saw Elliott.

"What are you—"

"We both made this mess," Elliott said. Her voice came out rougher than intended. "We both face the consequences. Not just you."

Julia's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

Elliott looked around the shop. The shelves were… depressing. Shop-bought croissants still in their cellophane, sad little bread rolls that clearly came from a packet, pastries that looked like they'd given up on life somewhere around Tuesday.

Without another word, Elliott walked past Julia, pushed through the kitchen door, and started pulling out mixing bowls.

She didn't know what she was going to say. Didn't know how to fix things between them. But she knew how to bake and right now, that seemed like enough.

Behind her, she heard Julia follow her to the kitchen doorway. Could feel those eyes on her back, uncertain and afraid. But neither of them spoke. Elliott just measured flour, cracked eggs, began the familiar rhythm of creation.

Muscle memory took over. The feel of dough beneath her hands, the precise timing of the oven. This was a language she actually understood. This was how she'd always expressed things she couldn't say out loud.

She'd been baking for about an hour when the back door opened and Milly walked in.